The Bucketlist

59 | SHIT

It's been eight weeks since I arrived in Seattle. Martha sits for hours in front of the patio, painting flower pictures, and I see very little of Mom. All I do is stay in the house, bury my eyes in the screen for work, walk in the kitchen, make peanut butter sandwiches, and feed Bruno. Even Bruno looks like he is getting sick of this house.

"Let's get some city air. What do you say, little guy?" I patted Bruno's head, and he wagged his tail. Is it just me, or every time I come back, his fur seems a lot more golden than the last time?

I heard my stomach grumble. It called for another bowl of cereal.

"Maybe, after mamma's pigged on some food. Eh?" I said, and Bruno let out a woof.

I reached for the cereal packet, turning it over the bowl, expecting it to empty round, honey-flavored loops, but nothing came out. I put my hand in, assuming something would appear magically from inside. It doesn't.

"Woof!" Bruno barked, and I took it to be 'dumbass'... I am. I know, am. Thanks for reminding me, Bruno. I was the biggest dumbass who left an all too good office at Bexley's to settle for a 'Work From Home' program because I had to be there. Yeah, I was a dumbass. Hands down agreed.

"I am going to take Bruno for a walk, Martha." I lied, tossing the car keys in my pocket.

"Take care. Don't sneak the dog in my car. If I see fur, you're dead." She yelled at me as I skipped the stairs on the patio with Bruno's leash.

Halfway through the road, I held Bruno in my arms and peeped through the backyard.

"Don't make noise. Mamma's going to take you for a ride!" I said, winking at Bruno.

I crept into the garage, sliding the door open. I hit the gas, and in the back of my head, I felt the twitch. It was a stupid tingle that disturbed me when I was close to driving a vehicle. Maybe it's due to that accident. Even thinking about it makes me feel shitty. If it weren't for that, nothing of this would have happened. I would always know what Will had done to me, and I would never get played. 'I am sorry, his words played in my head as I turned the engine on, and the car jerked backward.

"Oops. Sorry, the wrong gear." I told Bruno, and he let out a bark.

As I pulled into the driveway, I saw Martha in the rear view.

"You're dead, Eva!" She yelled as Bruno barked, and I laughed. I turned the radio on.

'Hold me a closer tiny dancer,

Count the headlights on the highway...'

"Fuck!" I yelled. Hit it shut, and Bruno stared at me.

I wasn't always an Elton John hater. But this song reminded me of Will. Car drives, and reminders of Will, especially when Martha was planning on skinning me alive, weren't a good combo.

I spotted the Target sign after fifteen minutes, and parked Martha's 60's Cooper in the parking lot.

"Woof!" Bruno barked, and I knew what it meant.

"Five minutes. You be a good boy and don't scratch the leather. Okay?" I said, and he wagged his tail.

"Good boy. I will buy you more dog food!" I said and pushed my hands into the pocket of my jeans. I tied the hoodie cap and entered Target.

Soap. Naah. Towels. Naah. Condoms. Hell no. Bananas. Nope. Spaghetti? Maybe. Cereals. Ah, there it was! Aisle five, row three. I hopped to the cereal section and pulled a packet of honey loops and oatmeal.

Wait. I felt the tickle in my stomach. I forgot something! Of course, dog food. I searched for Pedigree, meat and bones flavor on the kiosk. Aisle two, third row. I grabbed a packet to find someone reaching out for it.